


Well, Okay

by Bhelryss



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Gen, i do what i want!!, i live on the edge!, what i want is to restructure the last act of the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: Sonya’s hands knife up, magic flashing an unnatural purple color, and casts an unknown spell at the living flame. (Something Mae does not hear, “Duma will not take any soul given up by someone else! Never again!”)There is a girl with soot chasing at her heels, and a girl with lightning in her fingertips.Some day, Mae is going to kiss that girl.





	Well, Okay

The fight is awful. The fire is uncomfortably warm, and there is no breeze, no shift in the air to soften it. The room is not  _ small _ , but it doesn’t feel  _ big enough _ to hold all of her party, Alm’s party, and the forces that oppose them. That Alm kid rises to meet the big honcho-lookin horseman, and Sonya whirls away to fight some of the shades that the living flame summons. 

They look like witches, and they attack like witches, but Mae can see  _ through _ them. That doesn’t slow her, and in fact it doesn’t bother her. They’ve fought their way through Terrors and loser purple wizard dudes and pirates and even dead dragons. A little fire won’t stop her, and it won’t even slow her down. Mila led them here for a reason, and she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.

Mae tosses her head to get her pigtails away from her sweaty neck, and she smiles big and dangerous. She throws up a hand, electricity building up in her fingertips, and she throws a bolt straight through some chump. Yes! The guy gets back up again, but she knows enough about her magic to know that there’s going to be a lot of little convulsions to fight through. Lightning magic isn’t kind, and she has no pity for anyone in her way.

She slings magic around, ignores the ways it leeches her life from her, and cuts a path through the shades and the rest of the Rigelian clowns to get closer to Sonya. She catches up just in time to see Sonya’s hands knife up, magic flashing an unnatural purple color, and casts an unknown spell at the living flame. (Something Mae does not hear, “Duma will not take any soul given up by someone else! Never again!”) The fire shrieks, and the scream is echoed in the boy at Alm’s feet. 

The boy screams again, for the last time.

The fire goes out, leaving Mae blind for a moment before her eyes can adjust.

When her eyes adjust, she knows three things. The battle is over, Alm stands victorious over that guy, and Sonya holds a sooty girl in her arms. The girl’s skirts have the look of something eaten away unevenly by fire, but she’s quiet and she’s still. Celica isn’t here and Mae is worried, but she’s pretending she’s not. Someone has to pull their group together and Celica is her best friend! That someone is  _ going _ to be her. Who else would it be,  _ Boey _ ? So no, it’s gonna be her, and she’s going to do  _ awesome _ !

They find Celica, and it’s...not great. It’s heartbreaking and then they fight a  _ god _ , and she gets to  _ electrocute a god in his face _ . Which is cool, and scary, but more cool than scary. And nobody died!! So Mae pats herself on the back as an excellent leader and gleefully returns the leadership to Celica, who she tries very valiantly to strangle with a hug.

And that’s it, really. The end of all of it, and isn’t that strange? 

“Hey Sonya,” Mae calls out, breaking away from Celica’s side as soon as she sees Sonya’s red dress, “what happened to the girl?” She flicks out her fingers like little explosions, and jerks her chin towards the tent where Sonya’s stashed the former-living flame. “She okay?” How do girls become fire anyway, is that a witch thing? Mae didn’t even know you could un-witch witches. But she knows now, and her world is better for the knowing.

“She’s resting,” Sonya says, leaving no obvious opening for Mae’s more prying questions. She seems very busy, and uses her height to take long strides that leave Mae jogging to keep up. “I’m busy.” she says bluntly. “Don’t bother her, either.” And Sonya leaves Mae in the dust thinking, very firmly, ‘ _ I want to bother her. _ ’

Mae bothers Celica instead. 

“Did you see her?” Mae chatters, draped across a chair. “I didn’t see too much of her, after Sonya fixed her.” She kind of wishes she’d gotten a better look, but she hadn’t, and now all she has to think on is fire-eaten skirts and blue hair. Which is interesting, of course, but it doesn’t exactly lead anywhere. “Did you know you could fix being a witch?”

Celica shakes her head, “No, I learned after you did, remember?” Right, right. Mae remembers that now. A shame, because Celica pays way more attention to detail than Mae does. She’d kind of hoped that Celica would know more. “Sonya has said that Rinea needs the quiet, Mae. I’m sure we’ll all get to meet her soon. You just need,” And Celica’s growing smile and the laughter bubbling up distorts the words, “to be patient.”

“Patient!!” Mae crows, with a great performative dismay, glad to see a smile on Celica’s face. “Oh Celica, dear, sweet Celica. You should know by now that’s impossible!” And she winks, to keep a smile on her best friend’s face. It works for a while, but then Celica really does have to do work, and Mae shuffles out to go harass Boey.

Harassing Boey is always fun, but doesn’t last for very long. Maybe she gets bored, maybe she’s distracted,  _ maybe _ she sees a flash of blue in borrowed red.  _ Maybe _ she plants her hand on Boey’s face and pushes him away in favor of turning her attention to the slightest sign of this  _ Rinea _ ,  _ maybe _ she takes a corner too fast and bounces off of Valbar,  _ maybe _ she runs right into Sonya.

Sonya seems to know exactly what Mae is trying to do. “Stop,” she says, like a command that simple will stop Mae. “She’ll see people when she’s ready, and until she is I will enforce that choice.” She smiles, small and dangerous, and Mae thinks that  _ yes, a simple command backed up with that threat will definitely stop Mae _ . For a little while, at least.

So she desists. Mostly. Every time she tries again she’s thwarted, but it’s not like she tries  _ a lot _ . Just two or three times a week. It turns into a game, in addition to that true desire to see the mysterious girl, because seeing Rinea would be an excellent prize. And it’s fun! Boey’s put out a bet that she can’t rack up a hundred and twenty failed attempts before the end of the month, and she’s  _ destined _ to prove him wrong.

“It’s dumb,” she grumbles, back resting uncomfortably on Celica’s feet and her legs thrown across Boey’s stomach. Genny’s tucked in under one of Celica’s arms, and she scratches idly in her journal. It’s a moment of quiet and peace, and Mae has no trouble complaining aimlessly. “I just want to know her, you know?” 

“Yes,” Boey says shortly. He’s just mad because Mae won their bet. “We know.” 

“You get to spend time with her, Genny, what’s she like?” 

Genny shrugs, when they all look at her. “She’s quiet, and kind.” She tucks her pen into the crook of the pages, and closes the journal. “Rinea’s not ready to see a lot of people yet, either.” Soft-spoken as always, but obviously Sonya’s firm handling has been making impressions. And then Celica gently changes the topic and Rinea fades from focus for a little while longer.

Mae meets her on a cloudy day, a gloomy day. Her hair is pinned up prettily at the nape of her neck, and she hides behind a fancy looking hat with a wide, gently sloping brim. The air smells faintly of smoke, and Mae can see the ashes drifting slowly away from Rinea’s wake. She bends at the waist to brush fingers along a bush’s budding flowers, and Mae can only just hear the buzz of her quiet whisper. 

The scuff of Mae’s shoe against the path stones is too loud, too harsh, for what had been a gentle quiet. Rinea stiffens, turns her head to look over her shoulder, and stares at Mae like a spooked deer. Mae slowly raises her hands, and smiles gently, gentler than she’s had to be since she befriended Genny. (Mae is big and loud and a little abrasive, and all proud of it. People like Genny, and apparently Rinea, need to be worked up to the full brunt of awesome that being Mae means. She is gracious enough to grant them the acclimation.)

“You’re pretty,” Mae says, bluntly. (She’s being gentle, using her stupid inside voice, keeping the shock out of her fingertips in case she can catch one of Rinea’s hands. Her friends can handle Mae at her most electric, her most thunderous, but this is an introduction.) “I’m Mae, and you’re Rinea, right?”

“Ah,” is Rinea’s quiet response. She seems unsure of herself, clearly caught between fleeing or resigning herself to this meeting. Ashes float as if disturbed by Rinea’s heels, a hazy cloud hidden in the shadow of her skirts. It is probably the most interesting tell that Mae has ever had the fortune of finding, sitting among peers such as the clinging, acrid smell of black magic that surfaces whenever Faye gets upset.

“You like flowers?” Mae jumps forward, forgetful of care, and Rinea shies away. “I’ve never been able to keep them alive,” a heartbeat away from sharing a story about killing Boey’s weedy mint plant by sloshing seawater into the pot. (“Water is water, to plants!” she’d complained. Celica had hid her smile behind her hand and Genny was the one to correct her. Boey had been cold to her for two days before they snapped back to their rough-edged normal.)

“Oh, hey, don’t worry! I don’t bite,” and Mae smiles with all her teeth, really quick for a joke, and wiggles her fingers. “Might shock you though, but I promise I won’t do that yet.” And she waits, and Rinea’s gaze moves from Mae’s eyes to her hands, watching for something. Someone treated her poorly, Mae guesses, trying to read truth in those careful movements. That or maybe she can smell the ozone clinging to Mae’s hands, an unavoidable sign of how she manifests magic, just like how Mae can smell the smoke shifting through the air in Rinea’s wake. 

“Hey, so like,” Mae says, before the silence even settles, “do you wanna come to the kitchen with me? They made tarts this morning and I’ve gotten really good at sniping them without anyone noticing. They’re delicious, I promise.” And Mae winks, and holds out a hand, careful to keep magic from her fingertips. “It’ll be fun!”

Rinea hesitates, her skirts rustling as she shifts her weight from foot to foot, and then her warm fingers brush against Mae’s palm on their way to lace their fingers together. “Okay,” she agrees, still very quiet. Mae smiles like a sunrise, and pulls Rinea along. “We’re going to be good friends,” she decides suddenly, warmth radiating up her arm from where Rinea’s hand holds Mae’s. The future feels heavy and full of promise. Rinea is warm to the touch and quiet like a mouse, and Mae looks at her and sees a grass fire. Hot and gentle and important to the lives that thrive in the ashes she leaves behind. 

It’s a little heady, seeing that fire in Rinea, looking at her and seeing power chained gentle, a heart stronger than the magic pulsing in her veins, seeing Rinea like she is a miracle. She imagines Rinea sees the same. That Rinea sees lightning leashed into Mae’s bones, jagged and arcing and thriving even as Mae breathes. 

Some day, Mae thinks, she’s going to kiss this girl.


End file.
